Thursday, March 31, 2011

Tick Tock

Time. The clock ticks moving hands across a face that tells me when to wake up, when to eat and when to go to bed. I hate that clock. Anticipation builds while watching the single digit on the far right move up one at a time until the plane lands. The hopes disappear as the single digit counts down to double zero. All controlled by a clock.
                                                          Slave master; the clock.
We can only be so free with a finite number of years, months, days and hours in our lives. The clock ticks backwards the second we are born. Einstein tells us that time is relative. I want to love Mondays and for a moment every Monday I do. Time is something we try to manager, allot, and one day reverse.
Sights, songs and smells can stop time and send us back in our minds to a different time. Not always a time we like to go back to.
When is it time, time to cross the street or look up an old friend? The clock ticks forward with a momentum only God can slow. Moments pass that we cling to hoping to stay forever frozen in a suspension that we can manage.
How long do I wait.

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